


the people who build homes in your heart

by jessiohhh



Series: The Brooklyn Verse [1]
Category: IT (1990), IT (Movies - Muschietti), IT - Stephen King
Genre: Adult Losers Club (IT), F/M, M/M, Marijuana, Multi, Other, Polyamorous Losers Club (IT), Porn With Plot, Recreational Drug Use, half of this is straight-up sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-17
Updated: 2020-05-17
Packaged: 2021-03-02 19:41:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 17,039
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24242224
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jessiohhh/pseuds/jessiohhh
Summary: After nearly twenty years together, the Losers Club enjoy taking any opportunity they can to celebrate. Bill's book, IT, was just announced as a New York Times Best Selling Book, but some of his lovers are curious about the characters in the book and why Bill treated them the way they did. Specifically, why did Bill kill off Stanley?How do the Losers Club handle this upset, and how do they make sure their relationship survives?The first installment of The Brooklyn Verse introduces readers to the series and the alternate universe in which the Losers Club live together, love together and work in their favorite city in New York.
Relationships: Ben Hanscom & Richie Tozier, Ben Hanscom/Beverly Marsh, Ben Hanscom/Beverly Marsh/Stanley Uris, Ben Hanscom/Eddie Kaspbrak, Beverly Marsh/Richie Tozier, Beverly Marsh/Stanley Uris, Bill Denbrough/Beverly Marsh, Bill Denbrough/Beverly Marsh/Richie Tozier, Bill Denbrough/Mike Hanlon, Bill Denbrough/Mike Hanlon/Ben Hanscom/Eddie Kaspbrak/Beverly Marsh/Richie Tozier/Stanley Uris, Bill Denbrough/Mike Hanlon/Stanley Uris, Eddie Kaspbrak/Beverly Marsh, Eddie Kaspbrak/Richie Tozier, Everyone/Everyone, Mike Hanlon & Ben Hanscom, Mike Hanlon/Eddie Kaspbrak, Mike Hanlon/Stanley Uris
Series: The Brooklyn Verse [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1749781
Comments: 6
Kudos: 46





	the people who build homes in your heart

The room was filled with people; each seat filled with another fan who had excitedly purchased a ticket the day the book tour had been announced. They were calling this one his best story yet and many reviews were anticipating that it would be on the New York Times Best Seller List by the end of the week. The film company he had worked with in the past already had picked this story up, and a script was being drafted as he stood here reading the first chapter to the fans in front of him.

He was nervous. Well, he was often nervous at these things; public speaking still wasn’t easy for him, even years after subduing the stutter that had plagued him since childhood. He was especially nervous today, though, because of the six people who sat in the front row. Next to his manager and tour coordinator sat a red-headed woman, who held hands with a shorter brown haired man who had a backpack between his legs, who had a sturdier black man’s arm wrapped around his shoulders, who had his hand on the knee of a curly haired man, who had the arm of a man with coke-bottle glasses around the back of his chair, who was smiling and laughing with the strong, handsome man beside him, whose hand dropping to the other’s arm whenever he spoke. Those six right there, those six who couldn’t stop their hands from seeking each other out as they sat side by side, glued famed author Bill Denbrough’s feet to the floor just three feet away from the podium. 

“Are you ready, Mr. Denbrough?” A young woman asked. He watched as her straight brown hair seemed to catch and reflect some of the light from the overhead lamps, making it shimmer. He’d have to remember how that looked for a description one day, he thought. 

“Mr. Denbrough?” She spoke again, realizing he wasn’t paying attention to what she was saying. 

“Y-yes?” He stuttered, coming out of his nervous observation of the room.

“I asked if you were ready. Steve is ready to get started with the introductions.”

“Oh.” Bill said, with a pained smile. “Yes, I suppose as I’ll ever be.”

She smiled and walked over to the owner of the bookstore. It was a famous one here in New York City. It was well-known and to start his book tour here was especially exciting, because many of the world’s best known authors started tours in this very spot. Bill was fortunate that he was starting this tour here, in the city he claimed as his home with the six others who sat in the front row. His home and his family was here in New York City.

Steve stepped up to begin settling the crowd. Bill was pleased to see that his corner all sat up taller when Bill’s name was mentioned. Six faces snuck glances at him, and Bill could see the excitement in their eyes as they got ready to hear his story for the first time ever. He hoped they would still be as excited after they heard the first four chapters. 

“Ladies and Gentlemen, I’m pleased to welcome you here today to the book launch of William Denbrough’s newest horror novel, IT. This novel is Mr. Denbrough’s fifth, and pre-orders have, as of today, placed IT on New York Times’s Best Seller’s List!” Loud cheers went up through the room, the loudest from Bill’s partners in the front row. Bill’s mouth dropped open in surprise. 

He heard Richie, his lover with the glasses, exclaim “Look! Bill had no clue!” 

Bill sheepishly closed his mouth, and a slight blush settled over his cheeks. 

Steve began to speak again, “I suppose with that announcement, you’d like to hear from the author.” Cheers began again, and Steve beckoned him onto the stage. 

Bill stepped up and Steve spoke into the microphone once more. “Ladies and Gentlemen—William Denbrough!” 

Stepping up to the podium, Bill could remember his first public reading nearly a decade earlier. It was a modest affair set in the basement of a little used book shop in Brooklyn that had a decent reputation. Bill had gotten up in front of a crowd of fourteen (six of whom were his family) and read from his first short story compilation in the dark and dusty basement of the shop. He remembered how the afternoon sun filled into the basement windows, making the room seem golden and how the dust motes danced in the air as he read a story about a group of childhood friends who found a body at the edge of a riverbank. He remember how much his friends loved that it wasn’t about the horror the children experienced in finding the body, but the journey they took together to find it and find themselves.

Now, Bill was getting up to stand at the podium of one of the largest book sellers in New York City. The store, situated on 5th Avenue in Manhattan, had large picturesque windows that looked out to the street below. The room was well-lit with warm overhead lights as the sun outside fell closer to the horizon. The room held more than a hundred people in it, with many more standing outside looking in through the windows.

Steve stepped aside and swept his arm towards the podium. Bill stepped up and cleared his throat and took a deep breath. Nothing came out. He stood there for a second more, and slowly he looked over to his group. They were smiling at him. He wondered how long they’d be smiling after the first couple of chapters. He could see Eddie, the shorter man sitting next to Bev, the red-headed woman, mouth “You got this!” Ben, the friend at the end who had been talking with Richie earlier, gave him a low thumbs up.

Bill took a breath again and looked out at the audience. “Th-thank you all for coming. Wow. A Buh-Best Seller” His nerves coming out once again as a stutter. He took a deep breath and slowed his words down. “I’m William Denbrough, and this is my book, IT.

“It’s deh-dicated to The Losers Club. You are all loved, so much.” Bill looked each of his partners in the eye as he said this, almost forgetting that there were others in the room. Taking this moment to seek their eyes helped to recalibrate his brain and mouth to speaking more fluently.

“If it’s okay with you all, I’ll read first and give you all a brief background about the writing of the story and answer any questions after.” Bill said, finally gaining a little confidence as he spoke. The audience clapped, and Bill settled in to read. 

Everyone had stayed. Not a single person had gotten up and walked out while he was reading. He was grateful for that, but he had noticed the frowns on his partners’ faces. Bill expected the curly haired man—Stan’s—frown to be bad, but it was Mike’s—the black man—that was worse. He couldn’t go over to assure them that it all ended up alright in the end, because to be honest, it didn’t end up alright in the end. Horror stories, good horror stories anyway, didn’t ever end with a happily ever after. He also couldn’t go over and assure them because he had books to sign now, and a long line was forming faster than he could even get off the stage. 

The girl, Steve’s assistant, brought him over to a table that had books set up on it for people to buy and for him to sign. It never failed to send shivers up his spine that he was finally here. He had finally made it to the point of being an author that he was able to have a large book signing.

Bill graciously signed the books, and answered questions that were posed to him about his writing and his stories, but his mind was over on the Losers Club. They were huddled together in the chairs still, everyone else was either in line or had left already. They were talking. Bill couldn’t make out anything they were saying, but they sat in a circle, customary for the group, and talked. Mike had his hand on Stan’s shoulder, and the others were taking turns speaking.

Finally, the last person came up to Bill, holding out a book to be signed. The young man complimented Bill and said that he hoped to write like Bill did some day. Bill gave the platitude that he often did to the young writer. “Keep writing,” he’d say with a smile, “And when you’ve finished, send me a copy, I’d love to read it.”

No one had yet to take him up on his offer, but he hoped that someday someone was inspired by his writing enough to ask for him to read their work; perhaps he’d even be asked to write a review or a forward for the book when it was finally published.

Once Bill finished up meeting with his publisher and confirming his schedule for the next few days and the bookstore crew had begun putting chairs away, Bill was finally able to join his family at the door.

“Wonderful job, Bill.” Beverly said, leaning in to kiss Bill on the cheek. 

“Holy shit man! Best Seller!” Richie screamed, jumping over to give Bill a hug. His arm stayed slung around Bill’s neck. “Our boy is going to be on the New York Times Best Seller List!”

Ben pulled Bill out of Richie’s hold and gave him a big hug that ended with a soft kiss to his hair. “I’m so proud of you.” Ben’s breath ticked as it blew a few strands out of place.

The other three came to him last: Stan, Mike, and then Eddie. They hugged him quickly, and congratulated him, but they were much more reserved than Bill’s other lovers. 

At that moment, Bill couldn’t help but worry that he had really made the three other men mad with his story. It was incredibly clear that the characters were based upon them, and their childhood, and the first section of the book begins with the character modeled after Stan killing himself. Was it an exact retelling of their life? No, it wasn’t. It was a horror story. Did Bill want Stan to die? No, but the character needed to die for the plot to make sense. Didn’t it? Bill thought back through the whole of the plot and throughout the time he wrote the story, the character that was so very loosely based on Stan was meant to die. It didn’t mean that Bill loved Stan less at all. He just hoped that Stan would see that; he hoped that Stan would let him explain.

“I’m hungry.” Eddie said, snapping Bill out of his worry. “Let’s go to that pizza place in Brooklyn before we head home.”

“Roberta’s?” Richie asked with a fast nod of his head. “As long as we do pick up, you know how long the wait is to get in.”

“I’d like to eat in,” Bev said. “Come on! We’re celebrating!” She grabbed Bill’s shoulders and gave them a little shake. “Our Billy’s a best seller!”

“A table for seven at this time would be a long wait.” Stan said. He leaned into Mike. Mike wrapped his arm around Stan’s shoulder, and Stan smiled. Bill knew how it felt to be wrapped up in Mike’s arms; Mike was the one who felt the most like home to all of them.

Magnanimously, Bill made a suggestion. “We can celebrate tomorrow night. We can make a reservation at Roberta’s and actually go out. We can just eat in tonight and maybe have a glass of wine with dinner or something.”

Bev pressed herself up against Bill with a dark glint in her eye, “Or something alright. We will be celebrating tonight, Mr. Denbrough.” She leaned up and nipped him gently on the ear, before pressing a kiss into his lips.

Bill took in a deep breath, a shiver of desire curled up his back. “That sounds like a better celebration to me tonight than going to Roberta’s.” 

Ben and Richie nodded in agreement. Eddie looked around to make sure no one was eaves dropping before he said, “That sounds like a better celebration to me, too.” He pulled back and said at a more normal volume, “To the car, Losers!”

The group laughed and made their way out the door of the bookstore and to the nearby parking garage. Eddie had graciously driven tonight; his black SUV was the only car of theirs that could fit all seven of them at once. When they rode in the SUV, they had a very specific seating plan. Mike would always ride up front with Eddie, since he was the tallest of them all. In the middle row is where Richie, Bev, and Ben would sit. Finally, Bill and Stan would sit in the last row. 

While Stan was right in the middle of the group in terms of height, Stan preferred to let Beverly sit in the middle seat so that she could get in and out with ease, especially when she was wearing one of her beautiful dresses or high heels. Typically, when they used Eddie’s SUV to go somewhere together, they all were dressed up because they were going to one of their more well-known partner’s events. Tonight they dressed up for Bill. Last week, they went to one of Richie’s shows at Dangerfield’s and they dressed a bit nicer then, too.

In the front two seats of the car, they were talking a bit about food. Bill wasn’t paying too much attention. Mike was the one who really had an idea of what they had in the pantry; he took it upon himself to cook dinner most nights that they ate together. Of the seven, Mike was the best cook. Bill would get lost in whatever he was writing and would forget to start dinner. Ritchie would start dinner, and then forget that he was cooking unless someone was there to help keep him on task. Eddie and Stan were usually the last to return home at the end of the day, and Beverly didn’t care for the task personally. Ben was the only other capable cook in the household, but he was often the first to rise, so he was most often in charge of breakfast. Sometimes Eddie or Stan would take over breakfast, especially on the weekends, and Richie and Bill helped out how they could. Mike and Ben often called the other four their sous chefs.

Mike and Ben were talking about what they could make for dinner, Richie was interjecting with “fun facts” about any food they brought up, mostly the facts were sheer fabrication on Richie’s part.

“We could just do a big salad, and I think we have salmon in the freezer we could broil up pretty quickly.”

“Here’s a fun fact! When Eddie eats spinach he gets really gassy, so if we’re planning to ‘get down tonight’ and have a salad we might want to leave Eddie out of it.”

“You ASSHOLE! I do not!” Eddie yelled from the front seat. “You’re the one who gets gassy, and if you don’t shut the fuck up, I’m going to pull over and leave YOU out of it.”

Ben laughed and made another suggestion, “Spaghetti?”

“Eddie Spaghetti? Yes, let’s all have him for dinner. Or should we wait for desert?”

“Shut up, Richie!”

Bev chimed in with a soft, “Beep, beep.” Richie took her hand and toned it down.

“So, spaghetti—Noodles, garlic bread?”

“Garlic,” Bev frowned. “I mean, if we all smell like garlic, maybe we won’t notice?”

“Our bed would ward off vampires for several weeks.” Richie joked. It was accepted with a soft chuckle from everyone.

Bill turned to Stan in the back seat. Though his knees were pointed towards Bill, Stan’s gaze was focused out the window. The lights from the street lamps illuminated his face every time they flashed inside the car’s dark windows. 

“Stan?” Bill asked, his voice quiet. Stan turned his gaze toward Bill and looked at him with that serious look he used when he was thinking.

“You didn’t say anything…” Bill swallowed hard, “Did you… do you hate it?”

The corner of Stan’s mouth quirked up, just a little bit. It wasn’t enough to be considered a smile by any means; Bill knew it as the look Stan used when he wanted to appease someone. Bill didn’t think Stan had ever used that look on him before, at least not where he had ever noticed.

The quiet man placed his hand over Bill’s and squeezed it softly before pulling his hand away, “Let’s talk about it at home, okay?”

Bill couldn’t argue. If Stan didn’t want to talk, Stan wouldn’t talk. They learned that years ago as childhood friends. All Bill could do is sit quietly beside him and listen to the others talk about food, or work, or whatever it was that Richie brought up randomly. Of course, he tuned out moments later, his mind focused on how terrible Stan must have found the story.

Behind back of their place was a small parking lot. It only had space for four cars. It was tight when Eddie brought home the SUV, but they managed to make it all work. Richie’s sports car was the one parked furthest in, and Mike’s beat up old Olds parked beside it. Ben parked his pick-up truck at the mouth of the parking lot and Eddie parked the SUV as far away as he could from Ben’s truck. 

Bill, Bev and Stan didn’t have their own cars, but none of them needed a car. Bev would catch a ride with Eddie when he went into work, since most of his business was in the city anyway, and he could arrive whenever he pleased. Stan would ride with Ben in his pick-up truck since they both went to mid-town to work. Mike preferred to take the train when he went into the city for his classes, and for the most part Richie and Bill spent most of the day working from home. Sometimes, Bill would drive Mike into the city, but that happened more frequently in the winter than any other time of year.

The ride-share worked for them. Eddie loved spending the first couple of hours in the morning with the only woman he’d ever love, and he loved getting to drop her outside her office. Even better, he felt a major sense of pride when he kissed ‘the best fashion designer in New York City’ goodbye and told her he’d see her at home that night. Bev loved the sweet moments in the morning with Eddie as well; he was the most competent driver out of all of them, and he almost always held her hand as they were driving into the city. Though he was only a slight bit taller than she was, his hands fit over hers perfectly and he’d rub circles in her skin which made her think deliciously about the circles he’d rub in other areas of her body. While Eddie was mostly gay, he certainly knew how to make her body sing for him. 

Ben loved driving Stan to work in the morning. While the other man was mostly quiet, he had a biting sense of humor. He was least reserved first thing in the morning before he had fully woken up and the coffee had kicked in. Stan was absolutely vicious in the mornings; he’d berate the people driving slowly in front of them, and his words could cut deep when he was frustrated with the traffic that made them late to work. It left Ben rolling every morning with intense laughter. Sometimes, in the middle of a giggling fit, Ben would look over and see Stan smirking, and he knew that the comments he made were purely for the enjoyment of Ben, not out of any real frustration or anger. Stan loved riding with Ben in the morning because he would laugh so hard at the things Stan said. It was clearly accepted that Richie was the comedian in the family, but Ben had a keen sense of humor and it pleased Stan to make him laugh, sometimes laughing harder than when Richie said something funny. And when Ben dropped him off outside of his office, and leaned in with a smiling kiss to tell him to have a good day, Stan couldn’t help but beam with pride that this incredibly kind, sweet, giggly hunk was his. 

Mike enjoyed riding the train into Columbia. He’d have about a fifteen minute walk to the subway, and an hour in which he could spend reading or listening to music or an audiobook. Mike really liked this time in the morning where he could focus on his own thoughts and make plans for the day. He did also love it when Bill could drive him into the city. For one, it cut down on the commute time by about half an hour, and Bill and Mike could spend the car ride talking about history and literature and all of the important things that they so rarely had the time to talk about. Bill enjoyed it because he loved talking to Mike, but he also was grateful for some time out of the house before he sat down and started to write for the day. 

In fact, IT started because of a conversation with Mike. Mike had recently learned about the Loser’s old hometown of Derry, Maine having some construction work done on the water main and finding a couple of kids’ bodies that the police presumed were kids who went missing in the sixties. It had been an urban legend that a monster in the sewers had gotten them, and it seemed like the town was shocked to actually find the children’s remains in the sewer. And so, Bill had been bitten with an idea, and he wrote it as if he and his childhood friends had discovered, fought, and killed a monster in the sewers of their old hometown.

Where was Richie in the mornings? Richie worked from home during the day, like Bill, but unlike Bill, Richie would wake up to have breakfast with his lovers and then would sleepily go back upstairs to bed. They all told him that he didn’t have to wake up to have breakfast with them if he was tired from a long night doing stand up, but so often Richie missed dinner with the others that he needed to join them for at least one meal. It sucked that he couldn’t be there for every dinner, and he often complained about it when he started to feel like he was missing something. Fortunately, or unfortunately, for the others, Richie didn’t become energetic until afternoon so breakfast was often much quieter than the dinners they got to have with Richie. Once he was awake, he’d often bother Bill for a little bit of time, do a bit of his own comedic writing, and write some freelance articles on the side for some extra money, and then he’d get ready for a show in the evening. 

While the others had typical Nine-to-Fives, or in Bill’s case, whenever he met his daily writing goal, Richie worked late afternoons until late at night from Thursday to Monday. He often didn’t make it home until 11:30 when most of the others were asleep. Richie took the train in to Dangerfield’s and at the end of the night he’d usually take a taxi home, ready to be in bed with his partners. 

Home, for the seven of them, was a large brownstone townhome in the Bedford-Stuyvesant neighborhood of Brooklyn. While it had needed a lot of renovation in the last year and a half, they all adored the property, and they all were glad to live together. 

Even better, they all loved when they all were home together. 

After Eddie let everyone out of the car, he pulled the SUV snuggly into its parking space. The others always had to get out first, otherwise there’d be no room for everyone to get out. Beverly walked up the stoop stairs first, her keys in her hand ready to open the door quickly. 

“I’m so ready to get out of this dress.” She said, unlocking the door and slipping her heels off.

“Need any help, Bevvy?” Richie asked. “I’m ready for you to get out of that dress, too, and I’d gladly offer my services.”

Bev smiled, and leaned in to kiss Richie softly on the mouth. She lingered for just a moment and while his eyes were closed she gently smacked his cheek but she did it in a way that it made a sharp pop.

“Hey!” Richie cried, and then he grinned. “Do it again.”

Bev laughed, and turned around. “You can unzip me.”

Gently, Richie reached up and pulled the zipper down from the top of her dress. The top flapped open like butterfly wings and Bev held the front of her dress up so she could make it upstairs before it slipped off. 

“I’m going to go get changed, don’t start dinner without me. And don’t loose your suits yet,” she addressed the men who had now gathered in the foyer. “You all look too sexy to take it all off, yet.”

Bill watched her head up the stairwell with a smile on his face. He loved when Bev got bossy like this. He thought everyone did too.

“Well, you heard the lady,” Mike said with a laugh. He slipped his shoes off, and stuck them in the shoe rack by the door. Bill and the others did the same. “We’re not to take our suits off yet, but let’s get cooking.” 

He ushered Ben, Richie, and Eddie into the kitchen ahead of him. Stan made his way up the stairs. Bill made to follow him, but Mike called him back, quietly.

“Bill, a moment of your time, please.” It was so infrequent that Mike sounded so serious with him. It made Bill stop in his tracks.  
Bill turned and looked at Mike. Mike wasn’t frowning, but he had a serious look on his face. “I just would like to ask you, when you have a moment, to check in on Stan. I don’t want to presume anything from him, but I noticed that he started to close off a little after you introduced the character of Samuel in your book.” 

Bill nodded slowly, listening to what Mike had to say, “I’m reserving judgement of that particular plot point for after I read the book, but having Samuel commit suicide first thing in the story… And yes, I know it’s just a character, but while you were signing books we all were talking about how many of the characters seemed like us in this story. And it’s the first time you’ve really put us into the story.”

“Duh-do you think Stan’s upset… about the story?”

“I don’t know, that’s why I’m asking you to check in on him.”

Bill nodded again, and Mike leaned in to kiss him on the temple. “I’m proud of you for making it to the Bestsellers.”

“Thanks, Mike.” Bill said, leaning into his warmth.

Mike nodded and slowly pulled away after he heard his name called, “I’m going to go help in the kitchen. You go see Stan.”

Mike walked past the foyer and down the hallway to the back of the main floor where the kitchen, small living room, and dining room were. The kitchen was at the back of the building, its windows overlooking the small green space they called their yard. The kitchen opened up through a big archway to the dining room, and the dining room had access to the living room and foyer beyond that. 

The house had, at one point, been several different apartments. Once they had purchased it they began to renovate and make it one large home instead of four separate apartments. 

The top floor was the Master suite, it had an Alaskan king sized bed built to fit the seven of them, and an extra large bathroom. It was Bev’s main living space. It’s where she kept her clothes and where she went when she was tired. Most of them joined her in the night, but each floor down had a couple different bedrooms with a bathroom shared between them. Bill’s main work and living space was on the second floor, next to the room Stan and Eddie shared when they wanted their own space. Mike and Ben shared a room the next floor up, and Richie had his own room on that floor as well. Bill thought he’d check Stan’s room first, before venturing further into the house.

Stan was exactly where he expected him to be. His and Eddie’s room was spotless, as usual, with the two full-sized beds neatly made. Stan sat at the desk, a bird puzzle in the beginning stages of being put together laid out on one of those mats that can roll up and keep the puzzle pretty much in place. Bill knew that Stan heard him enter, his back stiffened and he shifted in his chair, but the other man didn’t acknowledge him. 

Bill walked over and sat down on the bed closest to the desk: Eddie’s. Stan looked at him out of the corner of his eye. 

“You shouldn’t do that.” 

“Do what?”

“Sit on the bed with your outside clothes on.” Stan said, fitting another piece into the puzzle. Bill adjusted himself awkwardly on the bed, but he didn’t get up. Stan didn’t ask him to, and it was Eddie’s bed. What Eddie didn’t know, and all that.

“So, you want to know what I think.” Stan said, turning to look at Bill. 

Bill didn’t even have to say anything, Stan just nodded and started in. “I suppose you’ll be surprised. I’m not mad that you killed me in your story.”

Bill cocked his head to the side, surprised indeed. “You’re not?”

Stan shook his head and turned his body in his chair to look more intently at Bill. “I’m not. I don’t understand it, and I’ll admit I was surprised when you revealed how like me your Samuel character was, but I’m not mad. I assume it has something to do with the plot and the plot wouldn’t work without him… me… dying.” 

Bill nodded slowly, “At least, I thought so. When I was writing it, I mean. Now, I’m worried that it doesn’t make sense.”

“If it didn’t make sense, your publisher and editor would have caught that.” Stan said, matter of factly. Stan firmly believed that the publisher and editor would help to do a story justice. Bill wanted to believe that of his publisher and editor, but he’d read far too many books with major plot holes to know that was the truth.

Bill nodded, looking to Stan for more explanation of why he seemed upset about the story.

“I hope you understand that I’m not mad, but I am concerned.” Bill frowned even more at that. 

Stan turned in his chair to face Bill fully. He leaned forward, his dark curls falling into his eyes. Of all of them, Stan had physically changed the most from their time together as children; once those curls were a dark blond, but they had darkened with age, and while his baby smooth skin had once been naturally soft, Stan had to work to keep the stubble on his cheeks from becoming out of control only hours after shaving. While he had changed the most, Bill also knew that

“Bill, it’s been twenty-seven years. I don’t think that’s a coincidence in your book.” Stan looked at Bill, who was biting his lip and had wrapped his arms around himself. “It’s been twenty-seven years since Georgie died, and in the first scene in your book Gregory dies.”

“It’s… he dies differently.”

“A killer-clown bites his arm off.”

“Yeah. And Georgie died of cancer when he was six.”

“Cancer in his humerus that metastasized…” Stan said, reaching out his hand and putting it on Bill’s knee. “You don’t talk about this, Bill. I don’t think you’ve talked about it since you were fifteen. It just… I’m worried for you.”

Bill stood up and wrapped his arms around himself in a big hug. He took a deep breath. “I duh-don’t know. Muh-maybe this book was juh-just a way to puh-process it?”

Stan stood up and came around to Bill’s front. Even though Bill’s chin came just above Stan’s shoulder, Stan wrapped his arms around Bill’s shoulders and hugged him tight. Bill melted into Stan and the two stood together for a long time.

Bill eventually was the one to break the silence. “You’re really not mad at me for killing the you-ish character in the book?”

Stan pulled back to look Bill in the eye. Bill’s chin tilted up to meet his intense gaze. “Right now, no. Like I said, I want to read the book first, but I reserve the right to be mad after.”

The shorter man nodded, acknowledging that Stan had that right. “You’ll tell me what you think.”

“I will.” Bill smiled, relief written all over his face when Stan assured him. 

There weren’t many rules within the Losers Club about their relationship. Not many formal rules anyway. Monogamy was right off the table, but the seven partners had a rule that there had to be unanimous consent if another metamour was to be introduced as anyone’s “outside the group” partner. It had been years since anyone had added a metamour to the group, as they were all pretty happy in a polyfidelic relationship. Fidelity, that trust that your partners aren’t going to go behind your backs to be with anyone else, was the first, most important rule in their relationship.

The second rule was communication. As soon as something came up, and you realized what it was, it was expected that you’d talk to someone about it. Even better if you shared it with everyone. Sometimes, that wasn’t possible for various different reasons, but as soon as it was possible, you shared it with everyone. That too, meant that if you had a problem with something someone did, you spoke to that person about it privately. You didn’t gossip behind anyone’s back. This had never been a problem for them really, except for once in high school, but it was something that they had carried with them from that point on. 

The final rule was trust. It was important that you trusted that everyone was acting with their best intentions, and that everyone was doing the best that they could with the resources they had. That meant that if someone messed up, you had to assume that they didn’t do it purposefully, and they didn’t do it with malicious intent. In the Losers Club, you trusted everyone. 

The rules had been put to the test over the last twenty-odd years, but they were rules that worked for them and their unique and collective relationships together. 

Bill and Stan were still looking at each other as Beverly came down the stairs. She had changed out of her fancy dress for Bill’s event and put on a dress that was sexier, and easier to slip out of when the time came. She’d restyled her hair from it’s fancy up-do and she had taken off her makeup. She leaned in the doorway, her bare foot coming up to rest on the door jam and she looked the two men over. 

One of the informal rules they had was that if any of them were having a moment together, you weren’t to interrupt unless you were invited in. Be it a serious conversation, or sex, you had to allow the couple who was taking time together to be together without interruption. So that’s what Bev was doing, she allowed them to invite her into the conversation if they wanted. 

They both turned toward Bev the moment she settled into the doorway. She had a soft, happy smile on her face, and it only grew wider as they turned to look at her. Bill reached up his hand and beckoned her into the room. She quickly came and settled herself into their arms.

“You looked like some damn romance novel cover standing there like that.” She said softly. “Hunky, genius Stan Uris and handsome, romantic Bill Denbrough; you’d be standing in front of some ranch or something if you were in a real romance novel.” She laughed softly. 

Her boys laughed too. Bill’s hand trailed down her waist and rested at her thigh. She sighed softly, thinking about what this evening would bring. While spontaneous partnering happened quite frequently for all of them, it took a bit more planning to get all seven of them in bed together. While most of the time they did all sleep together in that giant bed on the third floor, it was more often than not that someone wasn’t there with them when they all went to bed. Richie and Eddie were usually the last to bed, the latter often waiting up for Richie to get home before coming to bed himself. 

Throughout the week, too, there were days when one or more needed space; to work, to think, or just to stretch out and have a bed to him or herself. When it was Bev who needed space, she often went to sleep in Ben’s bed in the room he shared with Mike.

It was clearly a special night when all of them were able to come together romantically, but it often took a bit more planning than a spontaneous tryst. 

Bev leaned forward and kissed Stan on the lips. She turned and kissed Bill too. “Are you ready to come down for dinner, or do you want to stay up here for a little longer?”

Both men smiled and nodded, “Yeah, I think we’ll come downstairs. Maybe have a glass of wine…” Bill sighed, feeling in a much better place than he had been before talking to Stan. Stan nodded in agreement. 

Bev smiled and took each of their hands in hers before leading them down the stairs to the first floor. 

Once they came into the kitchen, Ben, Eddie, Richie and Mike began pulling out things they had in the fridge and pantry. Richie doing so a little less intently and more as a means of flirting, and Eddie was easily caught up in Richie’s inexplicable charm. 

“How about a head of lettuce, Mike. Do you want that?” Richie asked, holding up the iceberg lettuce. “Eddie, think you want a footlong?” He had put the lettuce back and held up a hot dog from its package. He walked over to Eddie and started waving it in his face.

Eddie laughed and shoved Richie away from him. “Gross, get that thing away from me.”

“That’s not what you said last night.” 

Ben and Mike laughed at that one and shared a fond look between them in both delight and exasperation of Richie. They were thankful that Richie had mostly grown out of “your mom” jokes, but still quite enjoyed the raunchier humor from him. 

Eddie was blushing but gave Richie a fond, “Fuck you.”

Richie smiled and turned to Ben, “What do you think, Benny. You want a footlong tonight? It’ll be all hot and steamy for ya.” 

Ben turned to Richie with a seductive smile on his face and slowly sauntered up to him. In a low voice with a slow drawl, Ben said, “If anyone’s getting a footlong tonight, Tozier, it’s gonna be you.”

The hotdog slowly slipped from Richie’s fingers as his mouth dropped open at the same time. “Holy shit,” Richie said all dazed and dreamy, “Yes, please. Gimme that hot dog, daddio.”

Ben smirked and pecked Richie on the lips before returning to Mike who couldn’t stop laughing at Richie’s expression.

Mike and Ben began to really make a plan for dinner. Ben got started on sticking rice into the rice cooker, and cutting up the two large heads of broccoli that really needed to be used soon. Mike turned on the oven and began heating up a pan with butter to sear the chicken that they’d have for dinner.

Eddie and Richie took their time setting places at the dining room table. Eddie made sure everyone had all the plates and cutlery they’d need, and Richie set out some water glasses and wine glasses for dinner.

“Do you want me to pour you some wine now?” Richie asked the three other men with him in the kitchen.

“Yes, please.” Ben and Mike said together. Mike added, “The Riesling tonight if you would, Richie.” 

Richie implicitly trusted Mike’s wine taste, as his was somewhat decent, but he didn’t have the same knowledge about wines that Mike did. Mike always knew what went well with the food they were having for dinner, and if there was ever a time that he didn’t know, no one knew the difference. 

Richie opened up their wine fridge, which also had beers for game night and individual preference, and pulled out the Reisling from the top shelf. “Eds, this is the last Reisling. Will you put more down on the shopping list?”

“Not my name.” Eddie said, pulling out his phone and logging into the shared grocery list. “While I’m in here, does anyone else need anything written down?”

“We’re starting to run low on chicken.” Ben said, “We’ve got enough for the week in the freezer, but if we could stock up again that would be good.” 

Eddie nodded, and wrote chicken down before closing the app on his phone. Eddie stood up and walked over behind Mike. He took a sniff of the food cooking and hummed softly. “Smells amazing, Mikey.” 

Eddie wrapped his arms around Mike’s waist and hugged him from behind. Mike smiled and ran his hand over Eddie’s arms. 

Richie returned with two glasses of wine, “What smells amazing, him or the food?”

Eddie grinned into Mike’s back, “Both.” 

Blood rushed to Mike’s cheeks, and he could feel them heat up. The change in tone in his face wasn’t enough that the others would notice redness there, but they would be able to tell by his body language that Mike was feeling bashful as Eddie held him tight. 

“Aw, Mikey, you’re blushing.” Richie said, reaching a hand up to feel Mike’s warm face. 

Ben looked over at Mike and gave him a fond smile. Mike turned in Eddie’s arms slightly and leaned down to kiss him gently on the lips. Mike was always gentle with the others, unless they agreed he wouldn’t be.

Eddie reached up on his toes to kiss Mike again, pressing himself closer to the larger man. He nudged the kiss deeper, and Mike opened his mouth to kiss Eddie harder. As Mike moved to wrap his arms around Eddie, Ben grabbed the turner from his hands, and started to flip the chicken. 

Mike kissed Eddie for only a moment, and then opened his eyes and looked over at Ben and Ritchie. Ben was smiling, but Richie was standing there with his mouth open. 

“You have to finish that later tonight.” Richie said, and handed Mike a glass of the white wine. Mike took a sip and set it on the counter with a smile at Richie and Eddie.

“I plan to,” Mike said with promise. “If not tonight, very, very soon.”

In tandem, Mike and Ben began to plate the food, they put the broccoli and rice on separate plates, and the chicken in a pan. Mike quickly made a sauce that was very similar to their favorite restaurant’s chicken and broccoli sauce and he put that in a gravy boat. The food was done, now they just needed to wait for the others.

Richie poured a glass of wine for himself and for Eddie. The four were standing around the table as they waited for the other three to come down the stairs. Fortunately, they didn’t need to wait for long. 

Bev came down the stairs first, wearing one of her favorite dresses. It was loose and comfortable, but it was also classy and sexy. The boys loved the straps in the back that showed her shoulder blades, and she loved how they looked at her in the dress. It was also this beautiful emerald green color that made the red in her hair pop vividly.

Behind her, Bill and Stan came down the stairs at the same time. Both men were sniffing at the air and smiling. Mike was glad, because it meant they had talked. He tried to reign his nosiness in when it came to his partners, but it was difficult for him when he saw something that made any of them sad. Especially when it was something a simple conversation could fix.

“Wow! It smells great, guys.” Bill said, smiling at how all of them were still dressed up in their fancy clothes. While none of them were in tuxes, they all had a sports coat and nice pants on. Most of them were wearing a blue or gray sport coat, but Richie had on a pink Hawaiian shirt under a tan jacket. When he was asked about it by a reporter earlier in the evening, Richie said that the shirt he was wearing was a dress shirt, and anyone who couldn’t see that obviously wasn’t cool. 

Stan had lost his jacket, and Mike had an apron on over his dress shirt, but he planned to take it off after he brought the food out from the kitchen. 

“Have a seat,” Mike said, gesturing toward the table. He turned and went back to the kitchen to grab the plated food.

“Let me help,” Bill said, following Mike into the kitchen. Mike smiled, and turned to kiss Bill, showing him how happy he was that he and Stan had talked. Bill leaned into the kiss, sighing happily as Mike wrapped a hand around his neck.

Bill could feel the kiss all the way from his lips to his toes. Any time Mike kissed him, it was like an electric current running through his body, as if he had stuck his finger into a socket or if he received a static shock through his finger after running over carpet with socks on his feet. Mike was a lover who could make your knees quake from the rumble of his deep voice and the brush of his hand against your throat. He had that effect on everyone. 

In the dining room, a soft “whoot” broke the moment. Bill and Mike turned to look into the dining room, and the other five were blatantly staring at the two of them. When they were caught, everyone quickly turned their heads or pretended that they had been looking elsewhere or having a conversation with the person next to them. 

Bill and Mike began to laugh, and they picked up the plates of food to take into the dining room. Once they got the plates on the table, and Mike took off his apron, the Losers began to eat. 

Everyone thanked Mike and Ben for the meal, and complemented them both with soft moans of pleasure. “I think this is the best version yet,” Richie said, his mouth half full. Ben and Mike blushed with pride. 

Richie chewed and swallowed, “Speaking of best versions—” Richie turned toward Bill. “What was up with killing Stan in your novel, man?”

The reactions were immediate—silverware was placed down on the table harshly, mumbles about inappropriateness spilled from mouths. Richie looked at the others and said, “What? We were all thinking it.”

The table around Bill and Stan got louder. Stan’s hand covered Bill’s; his fork was still clutched in his fist. Bill heard the commotion, but began to tune out of the fight. He couldn’t stand it when his lovers fought, especially not when they fought over him. Too many times, especially as the fighting was happening around the dinner table, it reminded Bill of life after Georgie died. Bill’s parents tried their best to stay together for Bill, but the loss of their youngest child proved too much for the couple, and they had divorced only a few years later. 

With his hand wrapped around Bill’s, Stan could feel the other man’s pulse quicken. Even though Bill’s face was completely passive, the slight uptick in his pulse was noticeable to the man who observed everything. 

“Hey.” Stan started softly, looking only at Bill. When he got no response from the rest of the room, he said it again, a little louder. “Hey!” Stan turned his head, looking at the others sitting at the table. 

“Aren’t any of you going to ask me how I feel about it, rather than assume?” 

Stan had never really been the confrontational sort. When Bill or Richie would get into a fight with the Bowers boys, Stan was the one who would stand to the side and plead with the others to stop fighting. When they fought as partners, it was often Stan who was the most impartial and most willing to see both sides of the argument. When a fight so big happened, once a long time ago, that nearly made Richie walk away from their relationship, it was Stan who stepped in and solved the problem. In their relationship, Stan was Switzerland. 

So when he spoke up, everyone turned to look at him. Even Bill. 

“I’ve already talked to Bill about this, not that any of you asked. I told him before dinner that the choice to kill the character who was like me in the story was his choice to make. I wasn’t going to make a judgement call until after I read the story and found out why. It’s not that big of a deal to me.”

“Stan, no offense, man, but you should at least get to know why he chose to kill you in the story. I want to know why you killed him.”  
“I duh-didn’t kill Stan. I kuh-killed Ss-Ss-Samuel.”

“Look what you did, Rich.” Mike said, under his breath. Everyone knew at this point that Bill only stuttered when he was upset. And everyone knew that fights between them really upset Bill.

“Samuel.” Richie said, pointing at Stan. “Reggie” he pointed to himself. “Beth,” He pointed to Bev. “Matthew,” that was Mike. “Ronny.” Richie slid his finger to Eddie. “Robbie.” His finger flicked to Ben. “And Tommy.” He looked Bill square in the face. “Tell me I’m not wrong.”

Bev and Eddie murmured Richie’s name, trying to get him to stop.

“Yuh-yuh-yuh-your.” Bill’s face turned bright red and his lips pursed together as he tried to tell Richie that wasn’t how it was. “Nnnn-No.”

“I’m no?” 

“Richie! Come on, stop it. Stop antagonizing him.” 

“I’m just trying to get to the meaning of it, Bev. Why did he kill Samuel, and who else does he kill in the story. And most importantly, why?”

“Rich, really. We’re celebrating.”

“And I’m not saying we’re not, Ben. I’m just saying that we deserve to know. Stan deserves to know.”

“You’re the only one who wants to know, Richie.” Stan said, holding Bill’s hand tighter. Usually, in situations like this, they could all agree to table the conversation until a better time for everyone, but no one had made the ask yet. Because it was Bill who was being asked this question, Bill would need to be the one to decide to ask for space to have the conversation at another time. It was a system that worked for them, that had been in place for many years now. 

“Fuh-Fine.” Bill said, with his head down. “I’m nuh-not keeping this from you. It’ll all be in the book when it’s delivered, and it’s already been pruh-printed an-anyway.” Bill took a deep breath. “It. The character, It, is—is an alien. And Samuel gets caught in it’s deadlights as a kid and he sees everything,”

“What are the ‘deadlights’?” Eddie asks. 

“Ih-It’s like…” He trailed off thinking about how to describe it, “It’s like magic, or like energy, I guh-guess. Samuel looks into the deadlights and he experiences all of the horrible things that It has done. He feels the pain the children felt as they were being torn to shreds, and all the pain he would cause in the future. Everyone who looks into the deadlights either dies, or goes permanently insane.”

“But that didn’t happen to St—Samuel.” Richie said, “He wasn’t insane when he killed himself.”

“Wuh-wasn’t he? He left Derry, and he forgot everything about his childhood, except a few rare flicks of memories. And when Matthew calls him, all of his memories come back, in a rush, because Samuel didn’t have the hazy fog the others did over their memories, they had been blocked because of the deadlights. And when you remember trauma like that, all at once, and not only your own trauma but several hundred years and several thousand murders later, wouldn’t you be a little bit insane? Insane enough to kill yourself?” The stutter had all but disappeared as Bill got into explaining the death, and why it had to happen.

“Okay, so why did it have to be him? Why did it have to happen to any of them?” Richie pressed.

“Because it’s a horror story, Richie.” Stan said, jumping in for Bill. “It wouldn’t be a horror story if it weren’t life or death stakes involved.”

“And—” Bill added, “If he didn’t die, there would be little cause to rally behind. The characters decide to stay, to fight, because of Stan. Because if he couldn’t handle what he saw in the deadlights, how was anyone else supposed to survive it?”

Richie nodded, placated with the answer that Bill gave. 

“I would have said something if I had thought about how much it was like all of you. I would have talked to you all about it first. I… it sounds stupid now, but I didn’t realize it was all that much like you all.”

Mike and Bev and Stan reached their hands out to Bill, assuring him that they knew. Eddie, Richie and Ben nodded in agreement.

“I guess I just feel like I need to tell you now one of the big spoilers at the end of the book. I mean, it will make it less scary, but since you were upset about this, I don’t want it to be a surprise.” Bill shook his head and put down his fork that he just realized he had still been holding onto with a death grip. “Toward the end, Ronny dies. He’s killed in the final confrontation with It.”

“Why?” Eddie asks, frowning.

“Because it’s a horror story.” Bill said plainly. “Because there’s no risk involved if they all walk out alive. Because by that point he’s become one of the bravest bastards in the whole story when in his childhood he was scared all the time. Because in the end his character would hurt the most to lose-for everyone.”

Eddie nodded, accepting all that Bill told him. “Well, I can’t wait to read it.” 

“Me too,” Richie said, softly, apologetically. 

“Be real, Tozier. You’ll have to have Bill read it to you because you’ll be too afraid to read it on your own.”

“Yeah? So? He’s got a really dreamy reading voice, and it makes the scary parts not so scary when I can focus on his voice instead of the story.” Richie winked at Bill. Bill smiled shyly back.

And then it was done, like that, and like usual, their argument was over. The problem that was bothering Richie was out in the open, and the problem was solved so that tension didn’t run into their relationship as time went on.

After dinner, Bill attempted to help clean up with Beverly and Stan, but they pushed him out into the living room with the others. “Celebrate,” Bev said, ushering him out the door. “We’re proud of you.” Stan said, filling up his wine glass and swatting him with the towel to get out of the kitchen. 

“I love you.” Bill said to both of them.

“I love you, too.” They both replied.

In the living room, Mike was propped up at the end of the sectional couch with the recliner popped out. He’d lost his jacket over one of the chairs, and his shirt was untucked from his pants. He’d peeled his socks off, his long dark toes bare to the room. His feet were crossed at the ankles, and his hands were behind his head. 

Eddie came and sat down beside Mike, turning so he could plop his feet into the larger man’s lap. Mike smiled and brought his hands down to Eddie’s feet. His finger ringed around the top of Eddie’s sock at the ankle, slipping into Eddie’s sock, teasing him lightly. Eddie sighed and sunk sideways into the couch, smiling happily at Mike.

Richie sat on the coffee table across from Ben as they talked about putting some music on the stereo system they had hooked up in many rooms in the house. Ben was encouraging him to put on a playlist they had all agreed on, one that had different genres and yet was calming and relaxing. Richie was arguing for something that could handle a dance or two. Bill smiled watching them interact. Richie was leaning forward, pointing at a few songs to Ben on his iPhone. 

Richie’s taste in music was actually pretty good; it was largely based around Motown sounds, but he loved everything from classic Motown artists like The Temptations and Gladys Knight to newer musicians like Ray LaMontagne and Leon Bridges. Of all of them, Richie was the one who actively looked for concerts, and because he was fairly well known in New York newer musicians frequently offered him a couple tickets to their shows. Each of them had been invited to several concerts over the years on dates with Richie. Bill had always enjoyed going with Richie because they always ended up jumping and dancing to the music at their seats.

As Bill was watching Richie and Ben talk, Richie noticed his presence. Richie looked up and his face softened. It wasn’t exactly a smile, but it was almost apologetic. He stood from his spot at the coffee table and handed Ben his phone. 

“Alexa, play ‘Please Forgive Me by David Gray’.” 

Ben looked at Richie as he walked around the couch. “We don’t have Alexa. Oh.” He sighed, realizing that Richie was telling him to look the song up and play it for Bill. He looked down at Richie’s phone, “You really should put a password on this thing.”

Suddenly the opening chords of David Gray’s ‘Please Forgive Me’ sounded around the room from the built in speakers. Richie stepped up to Bill and put out his hand, inviting him for a dance.  
“Forgive me for being an asshole and dance with me?” 

Bill nodded and Richie pulled him into the main part of the living room. Together they started to sway to the music. Richie took the lead, and wrapped his hand around Bill’s hip, his other hand was wrapped around Bill’s hand. 

“I am sorry, Bill.” Richie said, “I shouldn’t have pushed and I should have left it alone.”

Bill shook his head, “I wasn’t mad, Richie. I think I was just worried that you’d all be mad at me. What I write… mostly it doesn’t have anything to do with real life at all, but I guess it also does. I didn’t realize I was writing all of you at the time. Well, I think I thought I was just choosing the things that made you all the best, back when we were kids and now, and just giving some of those traits to my characters.”

“I know,” Richie said, “My jokes are only shadows of the truth, too. They’re partial stories mixed in with made up scenarios.”

Bill nodded, “And generally you get our okay before you share something about any of us on stage.”

“I do.” Richie said, “I’m not saying that you should have, or that you needed to, but maybe in the future if you plan to kill any of us off, give us a heads up.” Richie smiled.

Bill smiled and nodded, “Okay. I don’t plan to kill any of you personally.”

“Well, that’s good to know.” Bill turned and looked at Ben with a soft laugh. “I appreciate very much being alive.” Ben said, smiling at Bill and Richie as they danced around the living room. 

“Same here!” Eddie said, sighing happily as Mike finally pulled off his socks. He wiggled his toes and huffed out a little laugh as Mike tickled the bottom of his foot. “Especially when I have Mike’s hands in my life.”

“You’re too kind,” Mike said, his voice deep and flirtatious as he began to rub circles on Eddie’s feet. 

Eddie groaned, “Wanna do that on my back later?”

Mike leaned over and kissed him softly, “You only need to ask.” Eddie nodded and leaned back to enjoy the foot rub. 

Quietly, because it was a surprise, Bev and Stan walked into the living room holding a cake between them. Bill and Richie noticed first. Bill’s face broke into a smile. The cake was round and a couple layers tall with chocolate icing and decorated with pecans and toasted coconut on top. Written on the cake was ‘Congratulations Bill!’ in black icing. 

“Is that from Doc’s?” Bill asked. He loved Doc’s Cake Shop which was in their neighborhood and was the bakery they used for most of their birthdays and celebrations. The German chocolate cake was by far Bill’s favorite.

“It is,” Bev smiled. “We just wanted to congratulate you, Bill. We didn’t realize that we’d be celebrating your entrance to the New York Times Best Seller List, but we’re thrilled to be celebrating that tonight too.”

“For he’s a jolly good fellow,” Richie began to sing. The others joined in, “For he’s a jolly good fellow, for he’s a jolly good fellow—Which nobody can deny!”

Richie wrapped his arms around Bill and kissed him noisily on the cheek. Stan and Bev came further into the room and placed the cake down on the coffee table. They both gave him a hug and a kiss and told him how proud they were of him. Ben was next, wrapping Bill up in the biggest hug, and holding him tight. Mike and Eddie came last, only after Eddie complained about losing his foot-rubber. Both of them leaned in for a deeper kiss.

As Bill was being embraced by his lovers, Richie, Stan and Beverly were cutting the cake and putting it on plates. After so many years together, they all knew the sizes of cake to cut for each of their lovers. Ben and Eddie always took the smallest cuts, and Mike loved to indulge in some serious cake eating with Beverly. Bill, Stan and Richie all took an average size slice of cake for themselves. 

It never failed that nearly as soon as the cake slices were handed out, they were gone moments later. Mike was always the last to finish; he savored every bite, humming in happiness and satisfaction. That the others thought it sounded exactly like his moans during sex didn’t bother anyone one bit.

With bellies full, and sweet tooths satisfied, they all lounged back on the couch with legs draped over each other and heads on laps. Bev, sitting up next to Stan, put her hand out to the beautiful, curly haired man. Stan reached into the top pocket of his shirt and pulled out a joint. It was small, and wrapped tightly, but between them it would last for the evening.

Even after Colorado and Massachusetts legalized marijuana, New York City was still behind the times. Stan had a medical card that could get him edibles and tinctures, but smoking weed was still illegal in the city, so Stan had to see his long-time corner stop drug dealer to get a joint when he wanted one. He started smoking weed in college, as did the majority of them, and over time he found that it helped his anxiety better than anything else. It didn’t have the same effect for the rest of them, but for Stan it really worked.

They didn’t get high together all that often, but it was a nice way to relax everyone and get them talking and flirting. They all knew that tonight’s end-goal was to end up glued together in bed, but nights like these were always more orchestrated than most nights. In your late thirties, when you’ve been in a relationship for more than a decade, all that spontaneous sex you used to have had to be planned for, especially with seven participants. 

Bev stuck the joint between her lips and Stan lit for her. Of all of them, Bev had been the first to smoke for the first time; both cigarettes and marijuana. She had been fourteen and living with her aunt and cousin in Portland when the two girls had tried weed for the first time. They were at a party at a friend’s house, and a few people slipped out into the backyard to sit and smoke and look at the stars. Whenever she smoked, she still thought about those stars and she wished New York City offered any chance to see the stars at night. 

Beverly inhaled, sucking the smoke into her mouth and holding it there while she leaned over Stan to pass the joint to Bill. Bev wrapped her fingers around Stan’s cheek, feeling the rough stubble there. Stan leaned in to meet her mouth in a kiss. Bev exhaled as Stan inhaled, open mouthed. As the smoke left, her tongue followed to slip into Stan’s mouth for a long kiss. 

Everyone watched the two kiss. Ben, sitting behind Beverly, leaned back to get a better look at the two kissing. He wiped his hands on his pants, nervous and eager to participate himself. Even though they’d done this hundreds of times, Ben always felt a nugget of anxiety situate itself right in the pit of his stomach. He’d worked hard to overcome his insecurities, but a desire to please his lovers always sat right at the core of him making his palms sweat and his chest feel tense. 

Ben leaned back more in attempt to reach Stan’s curls with his fingers. When the tips of Ben’s fingers barely brushed Stan’s curls, Stan slowly pulled away from Bev’s mouth to turn his lips towards Ben’s hand. 

They weren’t that far apart, but far enough that Stan had to push up on one knee to reach Ben. He leaned forward, pressing his lips hard against Ben’s. Ben could taste the smoke on his lips as Stan kissed him.

Bev leaned forward, moving around Stanley to kiss Bill. Bill had handed off the joint to Richie, and Richie, Mike, and Eddie were passing the joint between them as Richie laid back on Eddie’s chest, the smaller man’s hands running through his hair, and Eddie was curled into Mike’s shoulder. The three men were watching the other four begin to paw at each other; lips crashing against lips, tongues coming out and curling against each other, vaguely like slugs in a mating dance. 

Richie’s hand that wasn’t holding the joint went to the bulge that was beginning to stiffen in his trousers. He moved slowly, knowing that the night was going to speed up soon enough, and he wasn’t watching porn in an effort to get off. Eddie’s fingers tightened in his hair, starting to pull gently. He could tell that Eddie was already starting to get aroused, his fingers tended to tug at anything they could when he began to feel the heat of arousal curling around his stomach. Richie handed the joint back to Mike, not wanting to give Eddie a reason to take his fingers out of Richie’s hair.

Mike puffed, and then held the joint up for Eddie to smoke from between his fingers. “God, watching the four of them is always such a turn on.” He said, the smoke curling out of his mouth as he spoke softly. “Always such a show.”

Richie took the joint back for another pull, and Mike used his now free hands to begin peppering kisses along Eddie’s neck, pulling down the collar of Eddie’s shirt slightly to kiss right in the crook of his neck. 

Eddie sighed and pulled Richie’s hair more. Richie groaned in appreciation. Richie nudged Bill with his socked foot, and Bill looked up from his kiss with Bev. Without moving closer to the red heads, Richie stuck his arm out to hand Bill the joint. Bill smiled and took it, taking another toke and passing it back to Bev. Richie tilted his head back into Eddie’s chest. His hand moved to the back of Eddie’s head and encouraged him to lean over and kiss him.

Eddie complied, and Mike followed, his hands beginning to unbutton the first buttons of Eddie’s shirt so he could more easily tongue at Eddie’s collar bone.

The joint was getting smaller with each pass. Bev took another toke and nudged Stan with the back of her hand. He and Ben broke off the kiss, for Stan to take another drag, and Stan offered it to Ben, who politely shook his head. 

“Finish-er up, Stan the Man.” Stan gave him an appreciative look, and took one long last pull and stubbed the blunt out in the ash tray.

Ben never smoked with them. Not that he minded it—he didn’t. He just didn’t like how his body reacted to it. While the others became languorous, relaxing into their bodies, their minds fully present, Ben became anxious and worried. The last time he had smoked, he had ended up crying with little that would console him until the high wore off.  
Stan stood, blowing out the last of the smoke in his lungs. He looked around at the others on the couch, lifted his foot, and slipped his sock off. His long pale toes curled into the soft fibers of the rug under the couch and coffee table. He kicked his other foot back behind him and slipped a finger under the cuff to pull that sock off as well. With bare feet, Stan started across the living room, and he paused at the doorway to the foyer. 

Everyone’s eyes were on him as he turned and looked back. “Well, is anyone joining me?” Stan asked as his feet padded across the cool tile in the home’s entryway. 

With that one cool sentence, limbs went flying as everyone attempted to stand up. Richie, without much standing at all, jumped over the back of the sectional and ran after Stan who had already made it up to the second floor. Though Stan had started to run up the grand staircase in the center of the room, Richie caught up to him quickly and slammed him against the wall into a frenzied kiss. Richie’s glasses didn’t even have time to fog up before someone was pulling the collar of his Hawaiian shirt and tugging him up the stairs after him. 

Bill had him by the collar, and he was now leading the way up the stairs. Eddie grabbed Stan by the arm and pulled him up the remaining two flights of stairs as well. Mike, Bev, and Ben followed slowly, watching the action unfold on the stairway. 

As soon as they entered the bedroom on the top floor, they began undressing. Dress shirts, socks, and trousers were dropped on the floor right where each person stood. Stan had a brief thought that they’d be wrinkled when all was said and done, but the high kept him from worrying about it. 

When the seven came together like this, it never took long before someone was advancing on another. Clothed only in their boxers now, Bill and Richie were pressed together—hands pulling hips closer, mouths entwining. Bill let out a breathy moan, and Richie’s fingers dug into Bill’s hips harder. Bev, in a soft pink panty and bra, walked to them and removed Richie’s glasses and folded them carefully. She turned to put them on the nightstand closest to the door, but both Bill and Richie grabbed her by the waist and pulled her into them.

Bill’s mouth went to Beverly’s neck, and Richie began kissing her with the same intensity that he had been kissing Bill. Bev’s hand, holding Richie’s glasses, reached out for anyone to take the delicate item from her. Stan grabbed Richie’s glasses and put them gently onto the nightstand. 

Bev opened her mouth to kiss Richie again, this time, biting sharply on his bottom lip. Richie groaned loudly, “Oh, God, that’s good.” 

While the three kissed, Ben pulled Eddie over to the bed. Ben sat down and Eddie straddled his waist. It had taken Ben the longest to become comfortable with the other’s mens touch, but it was Eddie and Stan who had done the most to make Ben comfortable. None of them had ever been completely straight, but Ben would fall into the top 85% on the Kinsey scale if anyone bothered to measure him. In their youth, Eddie and Stan were the ones to gently coax Ben to let his guard down, to trust them, to find pleasure at the touch of another man. It was their gentle patience that helped Ben find that while he loved the other boys in their group with his whole heart, he could also love them physically as well. 

“Bev looks so hot pushing Richie around like that, doesn’t she?” Eddie asked Ben, his voice low and throaty. Ben felt so strongly called to Bev’s dominance in the bedroom. While he held his own, and wasn’t submissive by any means, watching Bev take charge as she did never failed to turn Ben Hanscom on on evenings such as this. Ben loved the way she took control and demanded what she wanted. Before they all joined into this partnership, Bev had been in relationships that were very reminiscent of her relationship with her father; emotionally draining, physically abusive, and in which she lost all agency of her power in the bedroom. For the last twenty-some odd years, Bev had been given all that she had lost from her relationships with boyfriends, and from her relationship with her father. 

Bev heard Eddie and she smiled. Richie smiled too, looking her in the eyes and nodding at her, giving her permission to dominate him for a little while. Richie had been the one to give her the most freedom sexually. Their relationship had always been flexible with a strong give and take; Richie would encourage Bev to try something new, and Bev would be there to pull Richie back from whatever stupid decision he was thinking of making. The dance had been there their entire lives, and both Richie and Bev were better for it.

“Down on your knees, Trashmouth.” 

“Yes, ma’am.” Richie said, falling to his knees easily. His hands went to her hips, fingers brushing the hem of her panties, waiting for her to give the order. He felt his erection twitch between his legs as she called him Trashmouth. In his boyhood, the schoolyard bully had taken Richie’s penchant to say whatever was on his mind and turned it into a taunt. Bev was the one who encouraged Richie to turn it into a positive, to turn his comedic persona into the thing that someone once used to hurt him, to give him power where he had once had none. Bev was always the one to find power where there wasn’t. 

Bev spread her legs slightly, and Richie began to slide the delicate material down over her hips. Pressing delicate kisses into her thighs. She turned and encouraged Bill to shed his boxers. Gracefully, Bev stepped out of her panties, and threaded her finger’s through Richie’s hair. Richie groaned; his scalp had always been such an erogenous zone for him—the slightest run of fingers through his hair made him fall in love with the person who was handling him so delicately. When that touch was rougher, as Bev was doing now as she gripped his hair at the root and gave a soft yank, that love turned into lust in a fraction of a moment. 

Eddie ground down against Ben’s erection and kissed him on the throat. “Are you watching?” Eddie asked rhetorically. “He’s going to go down on her, get her all wet and eager for us.”

The smaller man had found out years ago that Ben was a fully cerebral man. Ben’s attraction started in the brain; he had to imagine and see what was going to happen within his head before it translated to his body. Of all of them, and maybe it came with no surprise, Eddie was the best at translating what was going to happen for Ben—his habit of talking all the time carried over to the bedroom as well. “Do you think she’s going to come on his face, or do you think she’s going to wait until she’s on your dick?”

Even Stan had to admit that Eddie’s talking was turning him on, and watching Richie gently separate Bev’s folds with his fingers made his mouth water and his groin ache. Strong arms circled around his stomach and Stan leaned back into Mike’s warmth. Everyone knew that Mike was the most comforting of all of them, he was the lover who called you pet names and held you as you cried. He was the one who fixed you up when you were hurt, and the one who kissed away the pain. Mike was the one you turned to when you had a problem, and Mike was the one to point out to you when a problem was on the horizon that you might not see yet. Mike was everything good in this world, wrapped in the most attractive package.

“You watching, baby?” Mike asked. Stan could feel Mike’s chest rumble against his back as the other man spoke. Stan nodded. Mike’s giant hands covered Stan’s stomach then crossed to reach Stan’s nipples which had hardened without his undershirt to keep him warm. Stan was breathing heavily as Mike rolled the nubs under his fingers. He gasped, tipping his head back onto Mike’s shoulder. Mike took the invitation to press kisses up Stan’s neck.  
Stan groaned, rolling his hips in the air, searching for friction that wasn’t there. Bill looked over, his mouth dropped open as he felt Bev’s fingers wrap around his dick. He was taken by the sensation of Bev’s delicate hand, and Stan’s wanton desire. “Oh, Fuh-fuck.”

Bill looked back down for the perfect view of Richie curling his tongue between Bev’s folds. For as often as Richie made the vulgar facial expression for pussy licking throughout their young adulthood, Richie was actually quite talented at it—something that wasn’t true for most boys who grew up making that expression. Richie reached his long tongue out, pressing gently against Bev’s clit, and making her moan softly. “Oh, Fuck.” Bill said again, his voice stronger this time.

Eddie did his best to not block Ben’s view of Richie, Bill and Bev. Bill had shed his boxers and Bev’s hand was wrapped around Bill’s hardened length. His other arm was around her waist, helping to stabilize her as one knee was over Richie’s shoulder and his tongue was in her cunt. Bill and Bev were kissing, both breaking apart every few seconds to gasp in pleasure. Eddie wanted to watch with Ben, but he wanted Ben’s cock in his mouth more.

Ben’s dick was hot to the touch, filled and aching and already beginning to dampen his boxers. Eddie ground down once more in Ben’s lap and slid to the ground in front of the bigger man. His hands gripped the hem of Ben’s boxers. Ben lifted his hips slightly, the material slid to the floor with one quick tug. Eddie pushed Ben’s knees open and fit himself between his thighs with ease. Ben broke his eyes away from the trio in the middle, and looked down just as Eddie engulfed his length. 

“Oh, fuck, Eddie.” Ben said, his hands going to Eddie’s hair and holding on tightly. Eddie’s gag reflex had improved significantly since his youth, and Eddie was able to take most of Ben in his mouth before he choked. It was still noisy and Eddie couldn’t help the drool that spilled from his mouth over Ben’s cock. Eddie’s hands slipped at the base of Ben’s cock from the spit that flowed from his mouth; as he pulled his throat from Ben’s dick, his hand followed, bringing sensation even after his mouth was gone.

Ben closed his eyes in pleasure, and Eddie gently pinched his knee. Ben opened his eyes and looked down at Eddie who pointed over his shoulder. Watch. He was saying.

Mike’s hands had pushed Stan’s briefs down so that his cut length jutted out over the labeled elastic. His large hand stroked Stan slowly and firmly. Stan’s hands rested on Mike’s firm forearms; Stan’s olive skin contrasted with Mike’s warm chestnut as the muscles in Mike’s forearms worked Stan’s muscle. Stan pressed his ass back against Mike’s erection. Reaching his arms over Mike’s he shoved the other man’s boxers down so that Mike’s length could slip freely into the cleft of Stan’s ass. Stan moaned as Mike’s long dick slipped between his legs, the smooth skin slipping slowly in the space between his thighs. 

Stan’s legs trembled, even though they were no where near close to penetration yet. The power that Mike held, keeping him standing while bringing him to such pleasure, made the floor shake under Stan.

Richie pulled himself away from Bev’s hips to look over and watch Eddie suck Ben. The loud slurps had competed with Richie’s own as he sucked at Bev’s clit. Bev gripped Richie’s hair, and forced him to look at her. From where he sat on his knees, Bev was blurry. The only part of her he could see clearly was her hairless thighs and well-groomed mound. 

“You can keep watching, but add some fingers.” Richie did as he was told, and slid two fingers into her wet heat. 

Bev reached behind her, desperate to take her bra off. With one hand holding onto Bill, she couldn’t reach it herself. Stan, noticing her predicament, pulled Mike over closer to them so he could unhook the bra for Bev.

“Thanks, Stanny.” Bev said, turning her head to offer him a kiss. Stan kissed back. Mike leaned over to kiss Bill who was still supporting Bev as Richie thrust his fingers in her. His hands weren’t as good as his mouth, so Bev slipped her knee off of his shoulder and nodded her head at Eddie, and invited Richie to go entertain himself with the other two men on the bed.

Bill turned fully towards Mike, now that he wasn’t supporting Bev’s weight, and Bev walked Stan backwards to the bed beside Ben. When Stan’s knees hit the mattress of the Alaskan King they had custom installed, he flopped back onto the bed and bounced just a little. Bev climbed on top of him and straddled his hips. She waited until she saw Stan nod before she sunk down onto his hot length with a loud groan. 

Stan groaned too. To think that there was a chance Mike might fuck him tonight to being fucked by Bev was a turn of events that happened so quickly it made his head spin. Bev on his cock was hot and tight, just as tight as the first time they fucked. He groaned as he sat himself up and wrapped his hands around her hips. Her hands moved to his hair, gripping as she rocked herself against him. 

Eddie pulled back from Ben’s dick when he felt Ben bounce slightly and hit the back of his throat. He looked over and smiled at the beautiful sight of Stan and Bev coupling. Ben couldn’t take his eyes off of them; Bev always looked so pale with her skin next to Stan’s, but she was flushing now, sweat building up on her chest, and Ben knew from experience that it was building up behind her knees as well. Ben pulled Eddie up and kissed him deeply, thanking him for the wonderful talent of his mouth before fully turning his attention to Stan and Bev. Eddie didn’t mind Richie was there waiting for him anyway.

Richie reached his hand out and helped Eddie stand. Eddie smiled and took his hand. “Come on, Eds.” 

The nickname quickly earned a frown from Eddie, “That’s not my name.” But he didn’t shy away from Richie’s touch. 

“You know I say it with love,” Richie teased pulling him closer and pressing kisses along his jawline.

“I know, which makes me hate it more.” Eddie said, his lips betraying his lie.

Richie guided him up onto the bed, closer to the further side of the room. He rummaged through the side table there and quickly pulled out a bottle of lube. He squirted some into his hand and began to warm it up. With his other hand, he closed the bottle and tossed it into the middle of the bed. 

Eddie reached his hand out and touched Richie’s forearm. “It’ll be cold, but it’s okay, Rich. I’m used to it.” Richie nodded, and slowly touched Eddie at his opening. Eddie gasped at the chill, but opened his legs for Richie to explore him more. As his fingers worked at Eddie’s opening, Richie’s mouth worked Eddie’s hard-on. Eddie’s dick was beautiful, long and lean and absolutely straight. Other cocks curved slightly, or had a mushroom head that made the tip look bigger than it should, but Eddie’s was just perfect. Of everyone, Richie worshiped Eddie’s cock the most. Eddie let him.

“Looks like we should join the others on the bed,” Mike said, leading Bill over to the middle of the bed. Bill climbed up, watching the others grow more and more intimate. Bev and Stan were still fucking on the left side of the bed, with Ben sucking on her breasts. Bev’s hand reached down between Ben’s legs and was jerking him off as she bounced on Stan’s lap. And on the other side, Richie was guiding two fingers into Eddie’s anus, and Eddie was gasping and crying out with each stroke of his fingers over his prostate.

“How would you rather do it tonight, babe?” Mike asked, leaning in to kiss at Bill’s chest. 

Of them all, Mike was always the most considerate to what his partner wanted to do; if his partner wanted to fuck, Mike was willing to be penetrated, if his partner wanted to be fucked, Mike could give it to them hard and dirty, but the constant for Mike was that he always asked first.

“Fuh-fuck me, Muh-Mikey.” Bill stuttered, turned on beyond oral skill. Bill turned over on his hands and knees as Mike opened him up. It always embarrassed him when he stuttered during sex, but his lovers knew that it was truly because he was so overcome with need that he wasn’t able to control his speech. They didn’t complain when he was quiet during sex, and they didn’t correct him when he stuttered. 

In fact, Mike especially liked it when they were together and Bill couldn’t string more than two words together without a stutter. It told him he was doing something right, that Bill was so focused on sensation and not in his head like he usually was, policing each sound that escaped from his lips. Mike’s lips kissed Bill on the round of his hip, and before he pulled away he bit firmly, making Bill cry out and turn to his lover with a big smile. Mike slapped his ass gently, but hard enough to leave a splash of red on the pale skin.

All of them turned to look at Bill then, and moaned at the absolutely enraptured look he gave to Mike who was reaching over to grab the lube from the bed. Mike coated his fingers and began petting Bill, relaxing him and getting more and more excited as Bill rocked on his hand.

Eddie scooted closer to Bill on his back as Richie positioned himself at his opening. Richie helped position Eddie’s knees over his shoulders and lifted his hips to slide a pillow under him. Eddie reached up and kissed Bill right before Richie sunk himself inside him. Their tongues danced together until Eddie pulled back with a groan of pleasure. Bill couldn’t wait to be filled up himself.

Mike removed his fingers and gripped Bill’s hips. Bill nodded, even though he couldn’t lock eyes with Mike to approve the next movement. Slowly, Mike pushed into Bill’s hole and Bill keened as he felt the sensation through his whole body. 

“F—Fuck, Mike.” Bill moaned, closing his eyes and feeling the sensation of Mike’s thick cock stretching him wide open. 

Beside him, Beverly began to quake on Stan’s cock. High pitched moans came from her mouth as her orgasm approached. “Oh, oh, oh!” She cried out. Ben reached around her and began to circle her clit with his fingers. “Yes! Yes!” She called. “Oh, fuck, — I’m almost there.”

Stan thrust up into her harder. She leaned back onto Ben’s shoulder as his fingers thrummed her most sensitive spot quickly. “Oh, oh, yes!” She cried as she came, her thighs shaking around Stan’s hips.

Stan leaned up and kissed her, pumping quick into her shaking body as his orgasm built under hers. It wasn’t long before he came into her with a deep, satisfied groan. They collapsed back onto the bed, and Bev gingerly climbed off of him and onto the bed beside him. She was shoulder to shoulder with Bill, but she spread her legs and beckoned Ben to her next. Bev knew she could take it, the best part about being a woman in a group full of men was that her orgasms could come as often as she wanted. 

Still heaving, Stan kissed her, and kissed Ben, and got up to move around the bed and slide in between Richie and Eddie, and Mike and Bill. His dick was still hard, and bobbed as he walked slowly to the long end of the largest bed anyone could own.

“How do you feel, Stanny?” Richie asked, chest heaving with exertion as he fucked into Eddie. Eddie cried out sharp little moans with each thrust. Stan leaned in and kissed him as he climbed up on the bed. His hand slid down Riche’s back, and settled into the curve where the sparsest bit of dark hair grew. Being grown adults pushing forty, all of them had body hair growing in places they didn’t love, but each of their lovers treated their signs of age tenderly and with such care that it made each Loser not mind so much how they were aging. 

“Pretty good, Richie.” Stan smiled, and turned to kiss Mike too. Mike, for instance, was starting to pick up a few gray hairs at his temples, and in the right light they caught and seemed to be brighter and whiter than just a handful of grays. Stan caressed the spot that had a few more gray hairs as his mouth lingered on Mike’s

Mike and Richie both turned and began to kiss each other as Stan scooted himself back towards the pillows to lean back and take the action in. Bill, still on his hands and knees, leaned forward and wrapped his mouth around Stan’s cock. Stan’s hands went to Bill’s hair, pushing it back off of his face so he could see the man’s lip stretch over his girth. 

He pulled off briefly to say, “Mm, you taste luh-like, Beh-hev.” Mike reached around and pulled on Bill’s cock. If he could still talk, get fucked, and suck a cock, he wasn’t being pleasured enough. Bill moaned at the touch and sunk down to his elbows, his ass arching up into the air further.

The sounds in the room were reaching a crescendo. Deep moans, and high exclamations as sweet spots were hit and rhythms were created. Stan, relaxed from his orgasm and his earlier high could pull out the scent of each of his lovers in the room. He tried to place each musky note to his lovers, but as he tried he would get lost in the way their chests heaved, and their necks tipped back their heads, and sweat off of their scalps. With his eyes, he traced a bead of sweet that slowly dripped down Mike’s chest to his navel. His fingers carded through both Bill and Eddie’s sweat soaked hair, making the hand stand up and out as sweat cooled on their strands.

Stan watched as each of their orgasms rolled over them, one lover at a time. Chests heaving, cries calling out begging for more, deep moans as cum sprayed over multiple stomachs and chests. Stan watched as some of his lovers leaned over to lick up the mess, and others reached for tissues on the bed to take care of it. 

In what seemed like no time, all seven were curled tightly into each other. Breaths heavy, and sweat sticking skin to skin. Stan was right in the middle, being held by Bill and Eddie with Richie, Mike, Bev, and Ben wrapped around them. They kissed lazily for what seemed like hours. Mouths searching for anyone who didn’t have lips to connect to, a couple times three of them managed to kiss at the same time, a feat they somehow perfected over the years. 

“Congratulations, Billy.” Stan said softly, and pressed a soft kiss against Bill’s cheek. Bill smiled as he received kisses from everyone in the bed. Kisses to his head, mouth, neck and back were soaked in, and he felt the deep love everyone had for him deep in his soul.

They lay like that for some time after they all came down from their orgasm. Richie began to snore, and Mike and Bill had their eyes closed, but their breathing told Stan that they were still awake. After an orgasm, Eddie usually was one to lay still, his eyes open and gazing softly at the skylights centered over the bed as he ran his fingers through Richie’s hair. In the end, it always seemed that Eddie and Richie found themselves together, no matter who they had partnered with in the night. The two slept best curled around each other, Richie laying on his stomach with his arm and leg wrapped tight around his Eddie Spaghetti, and Eddie slept best with Richie drooling on his chest, even though he usually ended up needing a shower first thing in the morning.

Bev and Ben were awake, talking softly. The rhythmic way Ben spoke made Stan believe he was reciting a poem he had recently learned to Bev. Bev sighed and tucked her chin against Ben’s chest as his strong arms came to circle around her body. 

Stan laid there as long as he could before the sweat started to concern him with a shot of concern through his chest. The high from the orgasm and the weed were starting to wear off, and Stan began to worry about the bacteria building up on his skin. Slowly, and carefully so as not to disturb the others, Stan picked his way out of the pile and made his way to the bathroom where he could begin his fastidious cleansing routine.

It was the biggest bathroom in the house. Previously, when this floor had been an apartment all itself, the room had been a bedroom and the fourth floor’s bathroom. Ben had said during construction that it would be easiest to use the existing plumbing to create the master bathroom that they all wanted; all it took was a bit of an extension of water pipes and a bit more money paid into the plumbers union to make sure it was all legal. 

In the center of one wall was the jacuzzi tub that Bev had asked for; more than one person could fit in the tub at a time, though only she and Stan were particularly partial to long hot baths. The shower on the far wall was large and had multiple shower heads so as many of them could fit in there as they wanted and they didn’t have to worry too much about sharing the spray. It wasn’t a glitzy bathroom, but it was large, and it was elegant, and it was comfortable; a lot like the rest of the house and the inhabitants within.

Stan started the shower, and stepped in. As he dipped his head under the spray, he heard the door open. He ran a hand over his face to wipe the water out of his eyes and saw Eddie step into the bathroom. The smaller man walked over to the shower and pulled the glass door open just a little ways.

“Mind if I join you?” He asked softly. Stan opened his arms and Eddie stepped into them under the nozzle. Eddie wasn’t much shorter than Stan, but he was short enough that Stan could wrap his arms around his back and run his fingers through his hair to soak the sweat out. Stan grabbed the bar of soap the two of them used; it had a hydrating antimicrobial element in it, and it helped the two of them who worried so much about illness feel clean, but not like they had to rub their skin raw to be clean. He began to rub the bar over Eddie’s back and chest, leaning in close for a kiss as the hot water steamed the room around them.

Eddie hummed, and closed his eyes enjoying the smell of the soap and Stan’s touch. Stan smiled. Of all of them, Eddie and Stan had the most in common. Stan had grown up with a serious case of Obsessive Compulsive Disorder, and Eddie was the adult victim of Munchausen Syndrome by Proxy. Both came with their fair share of anxiety, and their fair share of phobias. Together, Stan and Eddie had encouraged each other to seek therapy through their early twenties, and together in their mid-thirties, both were at a place that they could handle their anxieties and what life had to throw at them. 

Stan began to soap up Eddie’s hair, and Eddie moaned again at the touch. “I’m too tired to be so turned on,” Eddie sighed sadly. Stan laughed and leaned in to lazily kiss Eddie on the mouth.

“I love you, Eddie.” Stan said. 

“I love you, too.”

Slowly, others trickled into the bathroom to clean up. Bev came in first and blew kisses at the boys in the shower while she slipped into one of the private toilets. Ben followed and he began to get cleaned up at the sink with a wet cloth and a little soap. Mike came in, carrying the dirty sheet to the laundry shoot, and Bill came in to grab a clean sheet from the linen closet and the two of them went back to remake the bed before returning to the bathroom for a quick wash in the shower with Stan and Eddie who were finishing up. Slowly, they all got cleaned up, they brushed their teeth, performed any bedtime skin-care routines they had, and returned to the bedroom.

Ben was the first to finish, and he left the bathroom with a wet cloth for Richie who had helped Mike and Bill change the sheet and then slipped right back under the covers, too tired to bother with a shower. Bev didn’t shower either, she used her time in the toilet to pee and wipe as much semen from her lower body as she could with a wet cloth. She also used the time to freshen up a little bit and wipe some of the sweat off of her. Bev like Richie was more consistently a morning shower-taker, and taking a shower when she was already sleepy would only wake her up further.

Eddie and Stan toweled off, and headed back out into the bedroom where everyone was back in bed and tucked under the sheets. There were two spots right in the middle of the bed where they slept the best. The two took a quick moment to tidy up the room, and put together a pile of clothes that would need to be washed or taken to the dry cleaners before they could be used again, before they slipped back into bed in their usual positions. Richie curled back around Eddie, and Stan slipped in between Eddie and Bill. 

As they all started to fall asleep, arms invading personal space and feet tangling together, Richie piped up from the edge of the bed in a sleepy voice. “Thanks for the fun night, guys. I don’t have my glasses on, so I don’t know who any of you people are, but I’m pretty sure I love all of you.”

“Shut up, Richie.” Eddie grumbled. It was quiet for a moment. “We love you too.”

Bev piped up quietly from the edge of the bed closest to the door, “Congratulations, Bill. We’re proud of you.” 

With sleepy voices, everyone hummed in agreement before one by one they all fell soundly asleep.


End file.
